Finding Chase (Chasing Nikki) (19 page)

The woman gave us a strange stare, like we were some kind of deviants.

“My girlfriend sent me to pick some up for her,” I offered lamely before she called security.

“Oh!” She smiled as if everything made sense now. “Well, what size does she like?”

“There’s a size?” Brett asked, dumbfounded.

“Well, yes. It helps to know how heavy her—”

“Never mind,” I said snatching a random box off the shelf. “This box looks good. Thanks for your help.”

I practically ran from the aisle before turning to Brett who was following close behind. “Here, you carry these.” I held the box toward him.

“You couldn’t pay me enough to carry those.” He stepped backward as if I were holding a culture dish carrying the black plague inside.

“It’s for
your
sister,” I said shoving the box in his direction.

“She’s
your
girlfriend, and she asked
you
to get them. Besides, how do you know this isn’t some sick, twisted, female test? You won’t pass if I show up with them.”

I tucked the tampons under my arm with a growl and headed toward the register.

“It’s not like people are gonna think they’re yours,” Brett added with a laugh.

“Shit!” I uttered the curse as several guys from the team stepped from an aisle a few feet ahead of us. I quickly tossed the box toward Brett, who reflexively caught it, stunned.

“Hey dudes! Wassup!” Garret Hunt, one of the D-linemen called coming to give me high five, followed by the others.

“Nothin’ much. Just pickin’ up some stuff for Brett’s period.” I gestured to him with my thumb, and he glanced down at the item in his hand. “It’s that time of the month.”

Brett glared at me. “You are so dead.”

I laughed. “He’s a little moody too, so take it easy on him at practice today, okay?”

“No problem,” Garret said with a grin, clapping Brett on the shoulder. “Hang in there, man. It’ll pass.”

The guys chuckled and continued on their way. “Catch ya later.”

“Sure thing,” I replied, moving toward the registers again. “You coming?” I asked Brett who was still fuming in the aisle.

“No. I’m thinking of ways to kill you.”

“Ah, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mmhmm.” He pursed his lips.

Later that evening, we walked into practice, and my eyes widened when I saw Brett’s locker covered in pads, tampons, and boxes of Midol. Garret and the rest of the guys were standing around waiting for him and started laughing when they saw us. I couldn’t help it—I laughed too.

Brett leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Man, you better
pray
I take the Midol because you’re gonna need it!”

“Don’t blame me! I didn’t do it.” I held my hands up and backed away innocently.

“You’re just as guilty of doing it as if you’d taped the stuff up there yourself. If you’d have kept the stupid box, it would be
your
locker that looks like this.”

“That’s right. See, you took one for the team. I have a rep to protect. The QB can’t be some tampon wearing fool.” I headed toward my locker.

“Hey! Are you calling me a tampon wearing fool?”

“Would I do that?” I asked, tossing a grin over my shoulder.

“Yes. I do believe you would.” He was glaring, and I couldn’t help laughing harder.

“We got you a heating pad too, man,” Garret said handing Brett a box as he approached. “I think you’ll find it really helps those cramps.”

Brett glowered at me and mouthed the word, DEAD. I couldn’t stop snickering. I’d need to watch my back. He would definitely be looking for payback.

“Walker! I need to see you in my office!” Coach Bell’s voice boomed through the space, interrupting Brett’s and my banter.

I turned to head in that direction, giving Garret a high five as I passed. “Good job, bro. That’s some friggin’ funny stuff right there.”

“I aim to please,” Garret replied with a grin.

Coach gestured for me to take a seat. I did so, and he shut the door behind me, closing the blinds to the interior window of the locker room as well.

That wasn’t a good sign. I was immediately on my guard.

“Is something wrong, Coach?”

He walked around his desk and sat down, leaning his arms on it as he stared at me. “Is there anything you want to tell me, son? You know if you’re struggling with things, you can talk to me. I’ll always listen to what you have to say and help any way I can.”

I stared at him for a moment, completely befuddled as to what he was referring to. “Can you be more specific, because I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He sighed deeply and picked up a piece of paper folded in front of him. “This was slipped under my door when I came in today.”

I opened it, reading the typed message.

Your starting quarterback is on drugs. Check his locker.

I calmly tossed the paper back onto his desk. “I’m not on drugs. Feel free to check my things.”

“I already did. I had security come do a legal search.”

“Then you know it’s not true.”

He opened his drawer and lifted two bags, one contained marijuana and another pills. “We found these in your locker.”

My heart sank, and my vision spun from shock. “Someone is setting me up, Coach. I’ve used in the past, yes, but I’ve been in addiction therapy to get past it. I’ve been clean ever since.”

“How long ago was that?”

I thought back to Nikki’s death and reading her journal, which had triggered my decision to get help. “It’s been more than a year now since the last time I had any alcohol. Even longer than that for the dope.”

He pondered this as he prodded the items on his desk. “If you’re telling the truth, then I want you to submit to a random drug test right now. School policy dictates I suspend you from the team until your name is cleared. I’ll do my best to keep this under wraps. We definitely don’t want the press getting ahold of this.”

“What about practice today? And the game tomorrow?”

“As of right now, you’re out sick. The lab is closed for the weekend, so they won’t be doing the test until Monday. I’m thinking that afternoon will be the earliest we’ll have results back—maybe even Tuesday morning.”

“Are you serious?” I was fuming angry, pushing back my chair to stand. “You’re honestly telling me I can’t play because some asshole set me up? Anyone could’ve watched and got my combination. It’s not like I hide it or anything.” I took my cap off and ran a hand through my hair. “This will affect my stats. It’s ridiculous!”

“The rules are rules, Chase. I don’t want to do this either. My hands are tied. I want to believe you’re telling me the truth, but I have to do things by the book. It can’t appear as if I’m trying to protect you.” He honestly looked apologetic.

“I
am
telling the truth.” I was so angry I wanted to spit nails. Someone on
my
team was doing this to me.

“Then if that’s the case, go into the restroom there and fill one of the collection cups on the counter.” He gestured toward the private bathroom attached to his office. “After that, go home, and enjoy your weekend off. Sleep, watch movies, do whatever you want. Hopefully, I’ll have good news for you on Monday.”

“I have a date planned at the State Fair on Sunday with my girlfriend. Can I still do that? I’ve hardly seen her, and she got the day off work to be with me.” I was boiling mad as I headed toward the bathroom.

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Maybe you end up having some food poisoning?”

I shut the door, going over to pick up one of the sterile cups. When I found the dickwad who did this, there was gonna be hell to pay.

Chapter Twenty-One

“And the Sun Devils can’t seem to make it work against the Huskies today. They’re definitely missing Walker’s passing game. Brubaker was brought up to play quarterback and is absolutely unable to connect with any of his receivers, coming at two for ten now,” the television broadcaster stated.

“That’s right, Hudson. Even the line seems to be faltering today, unable to get it together. It’s almost like they’ve lost their confidence. What a day for Chase Walker to be sick with a case of food poisoning. It doesn’t look good for ASU,” the color commentator added.

I pointed the remote and clicked it off, slouching farther down against my couch. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore.

“It serves them right,” Brittney grumbled as she snuggled against me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Someone on the team is setting you up. I don’t know if they’re after your position, or they want you gone, but they deserve to lose if that’s the way they’re gonna be.”

“I’m pretty good friends with most of the guys on the team, Britt. They’re good people. They don’t deserve to lose.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m just kinda bitter. Your coach should’ve believed you.”

“I think he does. He has set rules to follow, though. If he doesn’t do things by the book, it’ll look like a cover up on our part and could end badly. He’s doing the right thing.”

“Well, it still sucks.” She wrapped her arm around my waist and hugged me tighter.

“I agree. Maybe you should do something to help me take my mind off it.” I grinned, winking when she looked up.

“For a guy who’s missing a big game, you don’t seem very broken hearted.”

“How can I be when it means I get to spend a whole extra day in your arms?” I kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you.”

She smiled. “I’ve missed you too. Things have been crazy lately.”

“They have been, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Hey, did you see the stack of mail I brought up for you? There was a big envelope from the school. Are you expecting something?”

“No, I don’t think so. Where’d you put it?”

“It’s here on the counter.” She stood and walked around the corner briefly before reappearing, several items in her hands.

I took them from her, sorting the bills to the side before looking at the large manila envelope. I tore it open and peered inside.

“What is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “It looks like more letters.” I leaned forward and dumped the contents onto the coffee table. They were all addressed to the athletic department under my name. A piece of paper fell on the top, and I picked it up.

Fan mail for Chase Walker, it read. I started laughing.

“What does it say?” Brittney asked leaning over.

“Apparently, it’s fan mail the school’s received for me.”

She giggled. “You have fans?”

I grinned. “Or haters.”

“No way. No one could hate my Chase. I want to look at them with you.”

“Okay.” This was such a surreal feeling. I never imagined receiving anything like this. I grabbed one off the top of the pile and opened it, wondering what I’d find.

“Read it aloud,” Britt said.

“Dear Chase. You don’t know me, but I’m a sophomore at ASU. I come to watch all your home games, and I think you’re the best quarterback we’ve ever had. I saw you take your helmet off on the jumbotron last time, while you were standing on the sidelines, and HOLY COW! You are HAWT!”

Brittney groaned and slumped back into the seat. “Great, fan letters from girls. I don’t think I want to hear anymore.”

I couldn’t help chuckling as I continued. “I’d really love to meet you sometime. Here’s my number, and you can find me on Facebook too. Hope to hear from you sometime soon!”

I glanced down to the bottom of the page where her number was written with a little smiley face on it.

“So are you gonna call this girl or what?”

I smiled, leaning to place a kiss against her mouth. “You should know better than to ask me that. My heart belongs to you.”

That seemed to appease her because she grabbed another letter and handed it to me. “Your
fans
await. I swear these better not all be from girls.”

This one was too, though she didn’t try to give me her number. She told me how much she enjoyed watching me play, and it was a bonus that looking at me was fun as well. She closed by wishing me luck for the rest of the season. Brittney was rolling her eyes by the time I was through, but she handed me another.

We read one by one, sorting them into different piles. There was the “I want to date you” pile, which ironically wasn’t all girls but a couple guys as well. That shocked me—I’d never had a dude hit on me before, and I didn’t have the slightest clue how to handle it. There were amazingly sweet letters from younger kids. Some of them were from a class project a teacher organized, thanking me for being a good player and representing the state. Others were from local people who were fans of the game, wishing me good luck. All in all, there were thirty-five letters.